I.
The cherry garden just before dawn was a pool
of sky that spilled too far into Earth, too eager
to have a body all to itself. In absence

of light were trees, kissed into nakedness & sharp
as ribs. You ran your nails against their mounds of flesh,
stark in their raw tenderness. The trees could not quite

shiver, so I did for them, heart wailing with its
softness. The wood became too fragile so we turned
our backs on their cities & raced the sunrise,
or the trees or the tepid fall of their fruit.

II.
The cherry garden at dawn was a maze
of limbs, hungry for warmth. The cherries were
not quite blossoms, but fruits: ripe & round as

they clung to each other’s stalks, caught in their
wants never to part. I could feel all the
days breathing beneath this one: yesterday

& today & tomorrow. You cupped the
sun into the hollow of your palms, drank
the gold into your stomach, turned to me

with red & amber juice staining your lips,
cherry pits between your teeth. You took my
face into your hands, streaking me holy

III.
with the sky’s heart still staining your glossy
palms, your tongue pressing the gold & the pits
into my mouth. I shuddered for my own

self, this time. Swallowed the pits down into
the valleys of my chest. I thought of them,
nestled in my shallow breast, blooming a

small garden of cherry trees. I thought of
two little beings, eating the branches
naked of fruits, suckling from the beat of

my heart & quenching their thirst between them:
as though two men starving at sea, clutching
each other’s skin until rubbed red & raw,

breathing from each other’s lips. I thought of
no more than that, for you were in my ribs,
& I was in yours: just like yesterday,

& today & tomorrow
& tomorrow
& tomorrow
&

there was no need for thinking, at all. Dear,
as long as I can feel my heart beating
through yours, there will be no ending for us.
Tell me